


Ash & Ember

by zoryany



Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Darth Vader, BAMF Leia Organa, Darth Vader Redemption, F/M, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, Gen, Hurt Luke, I don't get too detailed with the torture or anything, Jedi Leia Organa, Leia Organa Needs a Hug, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Manipulation, Manipulative Sheev Palpatine, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Protective Darth Vader, Torture, but we do have palpatine being nasty, redemption might be stretching it but he's working on it, though not really fully jedi just training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23439043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoryany/pseuds/zoryany
Summary: The Rebels may have destroyed the second Death Star at the Battle of Endor, but the Emperor's survival meant the war was far from over. As far as the galaxy knows, Darth Vader has been killed at the hand of Luke Skywalker, who is publicly executed for his crimes, and the Empire is entering a new era.Leia Organa, however, has her doubts. Equipped with the truth about her family and the abilities she possesses, she believes her brother still lives, somewhere, as a prisoner of the Emperor. It's her job to train her abilities, rescue Luke and put an end to this war once and for all. Of course, nothing in this galaxy is ever as simple as that. With a new Grand Admiral on the scene, a strange woman claiming the ability to train her in the Force and the Emperor himself to contend with, Leia will have to use everything she has and form unlikely alliances if she has any hope of saving her twin - and the galaxy.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa/Han Solo, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader, Mara Jade & Leia Organa, Mara Jade & Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Sheev Palpatine & Luke Skywalker
Comments: 30
Kudos: 90





	1. Trading Punches With the Heart of Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original concept for this fic came from a former writing partner of mine, but we didn't get very far in planning it out, so I took the bare bones idea and ran with it. Nothing in this fic will get too graphic, but some of the later chapters may contain some triggering content, what with Palpatine being The Worst and all. I'll warn you all when those chapters come up though!
> 
> I'm kinda excited about this tbh. It's Angst April, and this fic really features PLENTY of that. I haven't written Palpatine very much before, but I'm definitely looking forward to exploring that twisted bastard. I'm hoping to update this sucker semi-regularly, if I can stay on top of actually writing it, but we shall see, I make no promises... Now, without further ado, strap in, and enjoy the ride...

“Father, please!”

In his ears, his voice was muffled and distant, as though they were stuffed with bantha wool; in his throat, it scraped through in jagged shards that left it in shreds. His whole body shook with the blinding pain that danced across every delicate nerve he possessed, and soon the pain in his throat became indistinguishable from the agony present everywhere else. His throat still felt torn to shreds, but it had become impossible to tell if he was still crying out.

Luke Skywalker was going to die.

Going into this confrontation expecting anything less was idiotic, and he’d always known that this would be a one-way trip. After all, he’d already escaped from one Death Star, nobody in the universe had the kind of luck to be able to do that _twice._ But he’d hoped…

A different sort of pain began to mingle with the crackling fire that already consumed him. This pain was old and familiar, an ache that stemmed from _absence_ rather than something inflicted. Even after everything, he still could not claim to have his father. Some foolish, idealistic part of him had hoped that, perhaps, his father wanted to know him, or that he hoped to claim him for more than just his power. Some blasted, _idiotic_ part of him had hoped that, even if he ended up dead at the end of it all, he might have been able to at least get through to his father. To save him.

But he hadn’t.

And now, Luke Skywalker was going to die, having failed everyone he cared about.

* * *

For the entirety of his existence, Darth Vader had been intimately familiar with pain. It was what fueled his very being, fed his hatred and stoked his connection to the Dark Side. He was in pain now, as he’d always been.

So why was this pain so different?

It was, in a sense, familiar, but connected to a distant, rejected part of himself. It dug deeper than the scarring that coated what remained of his flesh and it hurt far more profoundly. It reminded him of a woman who lay broken in his arms, whispering assurances to him even as the life drained from her eyes. It reminded him of a vast, sprawling emptiness scorched beneath two suns. It reminded him of a woman collapsing onto the rocks as boiling lakes of molten rock swirled around them. This was a pain he did not want but was uncertain how to stop.

The boy was screaming. His _son_ was screaming. All around him, _the Force_ was screaming.

His master – the Emperor – was drinking it in, using the agony to fuel his fury and glee as each wretched moment bled the next. The Force was revolting as its brightest point was being smothered by the electricity that sought to short it out and snuff it so it could no longer light the galaxy; that very revolt fed into its continued smothering.

He could not stand for this. He would not allow his master to subject him to _this_ pain again. To make it stop, he would have to stop that light from being snuffed out, would have to preserve it so that it could grow into the mighty blaze it had always been meant to.

He would have to stop the Emperor.

_Father, please!_

He would have to save _his son._

No longer able to bear the sight of the writhing form of the boy, shrouded in purple, forking bolts, Vader turned his mask to level its icy gaze on the Emperor. His face was contorted with a twisted glee and, consumed as he was by his sadistic delight, he would not register the betrayal he was about to experience.

He was moving before he even registered it, twisting to wrench his master away from his son, to throw him into the depths of this technological terror he’d insisted on recreating. It was the least he deserved, to be destroyed by the greatest monstrosities he’d constructed. Vader relished in that thought as he prepared to be rid of his shackles once and for all.

But, of course, a slave could never truly be free.

The loud clattering of debris that echoed through the throne room and turned his master’s attention from the boy to the apprentice felt like snapping of locks around his wrists once more. The blasted rebels had broken through the shields and were landing critical shots on the station. Not yet their ultimate target, but enough to cause some damage before its full destruction. The damned fools had no clue that their poorly timed shots would only serve to work against them.

“Ahh, my _loyal apprentice,_ ” Palpatine spat, shooting an arc of lightning at Vader that sent him flying backwards. “It seems that you are capable of treachery after all. I was beginning to have my doubts.”

Suppressing a snarl, Vader gathered the Force around him – not Light, not Dark, but purely the _Force_ that wove its way through his very being – and struggled to draw himself upright. Despite the level of sadistic glee his master was radiating, Palpatine knew as well as Vader that this little _game_ could not be prolonged much further. It would come to an end one way or another, and Vader refused to let it end on any terms but _his._

From across the chamber, a quiet groan accompanied the sluggish stirring of his son, snapping the Emperor’s attention back to the boy. A gnarled smile spread across his twisted, wrinkled features, and another heart-wrenching cry filled the chamber as another, almost _lazy_ bolt of lightning sparked across the small, frail frame writhing on the ground, _too far away from him._ “Naturally,” the Emperor purred venomously, “it is for _the boy._ I should have expected this. You always were… _weak,_ where family is concerned.”

With a feral roar, Vader surged forwards, all pain from the blast he’d endured becoming inconsequential. How _dare he –_

“Stay _down,_ Lord Vader,” Palpatine growled, putting more power behind the blast that knocked him back this time. “You were a worthy apprentice, once, but the galaxy has no further use for you.” The fury in his amber eyes flared briefly before they gleamed once more with twisted enjoyment. “How fitting it is –” another cry from the boy, longer this time, as he was assaulted once more, “– don’t you think, –” agony piercing through Vader’s fury, his limbs seizing up from the electrical interference, “for father and son to die together?”

Palpatine turned towards the boy, moving swiftly despite his slow, purposeful strides. His face was turned away from Vader, whose limbs protested against his attempts at movement. The hooded figure of his master blocked his son from his vision, but he could see the gnarled hand reach for the boy’s face – hear the pained whimper as the claws gripped his chin – _far_ too clearly. Another explosion rocked the Death Star, its destruction imminent; Palpatine was determined to wreak as much pain as he could before he ended this little game of his.

“Yes, my boy.” There was false sympathy in that voice, painting the image of his disappointment that it would have to be this way while making it clear that he would win no matter the outcome. “Such a pity it is, to waste your potential. You could have accomplished such great things.” The Emperor paused a moment, almost thoughtfully. “Though I do not believe all is lost. After all, there would be equal potential in the _sister…_ ”

A wave of fury crashed through the Force, the same that had driven the boy to overpower Vader, but it was cut short by a choked gasp catching in his throat. “Would this not be fitting too, Lord Vader?” Pure mockery coated Palpatine’s words as the child continued to sputter and struggle to draw even a brief gasp of air. “For the son to die the same as his mother?” The garbled noises grew quieter, weaker, more strained, before stopping altogether.

_No…_

She couldn’t have died that way. She could _not_ have died by his hand. If she had, their child would have never survived. His master was playing on old pains, using decades-old guilt and sorrow to toy with him. And he was succeeding. Memories of rage and anguish had been drawn out by the gasping of his son, echoing through the silence. But… The boy could _not_ be –

“No!” The Force drove his surge forward, damaged prosthetics be damned. Vader needed to reach his son, to know that he was _alive._

But he could not match his master, not in this state – not even for his son.

The Emperor released the boy, a dull thud echoing through the chamber as the frail form hit the floor. Vader did not have time to despair at the sound before Palpatine whirled around and thrust one arm forward. There was no lightning, this time, just a pure, furious shockwave through the Force that echoed in time with another tremor through the Death Star. Vader flew backwards, deaf to whatever mocking remark his master made, and the world around him went black.

When he regained awareness, which was something of a surprise in and of itself, he found himself alone in a throne room that was mere moments from destruction. Pain throbbed through every part of him, not unfamiliar but certainly elevated and a greater hindrance than was usual. The pain was nothing, however, compared to his _rage._ His master was _gone,_ had left him here to die, as though his power and years of loyalty had meant _nothing._ And his son –

Sweeping the room with his gaze, Vader scowled as he noticed something peculiar – there was no body. Was Vader to die so miserably alone that he wouldn’t even be able to do so alongside his son? Or…

Palpatine would not bother taking the boy if he were not alive. Something in the Force whispered the truth behind that, and Vader was certain that he would know if his son was dead. He would not die here either. If there was even a _chance_ of rescuing him, he would do whatever it took.

A dim gleam of light caught Vader’s gaze, small and almost unseen, but precious nonetheless – his son’s lightsaber. Palpatine had not bothered to collect it, seemingly more concerned with absconding with the boy – and his life – than retrieving what he would deem to be an inconsequential item. But to Vader, it meant the galaxy. It meant he had something to drive him, a reminder that there was a piece of him out there, somewhere. This weapon could be a peace offering, father and son both obtaining, once again, what was rightfully _theirs._

And… _perhaps…_ there was the hope for something more…

_Sister._

He had a daughter. Twins. Someone his son cared deeply for, someone who cared deeply for him. Someone with an shared interest in finding him. Someone Vader himself could dare to hope he could know himself.

He would make it to a shuttle. He would go somewhere to recover. He would find his daughter. He would retrieve his son.

And he would destroy his master.

* * *

The Imperial troops were retreating, falling back on the moon and evacuating the station while wave after wave of TIE fighters prevented the rebels from making the one shot that mattered. Leia didn’t even care how many of them escaped.

She only cared if Luke had.

A sense of dread was building in her. Perhaps it was something to do with that power she supposedly shared with Luke. Somehow, that filled her with even _more_ dread. How could he _do this_ to her? He’d dropped the truth of his parentage on her, the truth of their relationship and thus _her_ parentage, told her _she_ had the same power he did and would be their only hope if he didn’t return, then run off to the Death Star to face what was now seeming like certain death. She would be _outraged_ if she wasn’t so worried about him.

About Luke. Her brother. Jedi Knight, Hero of the Rebellion, Destroyer of the (First) Death Star, and Galaxy Class _Idiot._

Somehow, Leia felt sure that she’d know if he died on board the Death Star. For whatever reason, her gut told her he was still alive, but that did nothing to soothe her worry. If he didn’t come back…

The explosion overhead caused her to jump out of her skin, and around her, Rebel troops began to celebrate. Leia didn’t join in. She had a bad feeling about this.

“I’m sure Luke wasn’t on that thing when it blew,” Han said, resting a hesitant hand on her shoulder.

Leia knit her brows together, eyes distant as she… _listened._ Not with her ears, but with a deeper part of herself she had no idea how she had even accessed. “No… he wasn’t.”

Withdrawing his hand, Han wore a frown of his own, woven with concern and uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Look… if there’s something going on between you two… I get it. Hell, the kid managed to win _me_ over. That farmboy charm goes a long way.”

He was rambling. Leia knew he was rambling in an effort to conceal his concern. “No, laserbrain.” The insult was half-hearted, spoken out of habit rather than any real intent. “He’s my brother. And… I think he’s in danger.”

“Oh.”

It was all Han could say – all he was capable of saying and all he had time to say because, moments later, an officer ran up to them wearing a frantic, panicked look.

“Princess – Your Highness, urgent news.” The lieutenant was trembling, voice heavy with devastation. That pool of dread in Leia’s stomach threatened to flood her entire being. “There are reports – still unconfirmed but from a reliable source – that, well… the war… isn’t over.”

“What?”

“The Emperor… He – his shuttle was spotted leaving the Death Star. He survived. We lost.”

Oh.

Leia squeezed her eyes shut and felt an overwhelming sense of loss and _longing_ pour outward from her. There was so much despair, so much rage, so much anguish that she simply couldn’t contain it. It was indescribable, and she felt as though she may shatter into more pieces than the Death Star right then and there. The last time she felt this had been –

No. She needed to stay strong. She _hadn’t_ shattered then, and she _couldn’t_ shatter now. She needed to be strong. For the Rebellion. For the galaxy.

… _For Luke._

“Understood. Inform the troops. We need to retreat and regroup. Once the report is confirmed then… we can decide our plan of action.”

She didn’t even need to think as she spoke the words, her _practiced politician_ immediately taking over. It was a good thing it had, too, because there was no telling what morale would be like after this as it was. Seeing the princess lose hope might just crush them for good. But as smooth as the words flowed, her thoughts were elsewhere, dwelling on the other thing that might break the troops. The Rebellion had lost Luke Skywalker today, not to death but to something much, _much_ worse.

And all she could think about was how she would get him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have two playlists on spotify dedicated to Luke - [ Hero's Journey,](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3GoEsvBnSwBcFs2ezVflV1) which I put together meticulously to create something of a musical version of Luke in the OT, and [ starlight in your veins,](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5jl1NHYMf2v0mrBxl1zZXC) my much more casual playlist that I keep adding to as I go and just kinda has a bunch of songs that give me Luke Vibes at varying points in his life. Since I am terrible at titles, I'm using these playlists to name the chapters of this fic. I'll list the name/artist of the song the lyrics come from, and if the song as a whole doesn't QUITE fit the chapter, I'll list a song that I think fits it a little better!
> 
> The fic as a whole is named after Ash And Ember by Augustana!  
> The lyrics for the chapter title come from Hard Love by NEEDTOBREATHE.  
> A song for this chapter is Trouble by Cage the Elephant.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the setup, and let me know what you think! It's all downhill from here hehe.


	2. How Could I Feel the Warmth Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Galaxy adjusts to the new state of the Empire as Leia an the Rebellion decide how they should proceed.

_ “Loyal citizens of the Empire, it is with a heavy heart that I address you on this evening. I regret to inform you that my second in command, Lord Darth Vader, Commander of the Imperial Navy, is dead, murdered at the hand of the Rebel Commander Luke Skywalker.” Silence rings out, broken only by faint gasps from the crowd, a pause in the speech to allow the weight of the announcement sink in. “Lord Vader fought valiantly until the bitter end, refusing to back down, defending his Empire to his last breath. But Skywalker was a  _ Jedi, _ a dangerous one, and it was only through his trickery and treachery that he was able to best his opponent.” _

_ A horrified mutter ripples through the crowd. “As tragic as this day is, however, there is some consolation to be found. Skywalker has been apprehended and is under the custody of my personal guards, awaiting execution for the crimes of treason, assassination, and mass destruction of Imperial property. Skywalker’s crimes are inexcusable and unforgivable. Not only has he betrayed our beloved Empire, ended hundreds of thousands of lives with the destruction of an Imperial Research Station four years ago and murdered a dear and personal friend – he has threatened the peace and prosperity that my people hold so dear. That is something I will simply not tolerate. So, on behalf of all the people he’s hurt, all the families he’s torn apart, Luke Skywalker  _ will _ face justice deserving of his crimes.” _

_ The words are spoken with such conviction, a quiet and tranquil rage weaving through them, speaking of deep pain while remaining colder than the icefields of Hoth. The crowd’s murmurs grow agitated, their volume rising in a blend of astonishment, relief and fear for what would come next. _

_ “Do not despair, my friends, for I believe that this is simply the dawn of a new era in our Galactic Empire, and we can certainly move forward, stronger than ever. This is why, in the wake of Lord Vader’s death, I would like to announce –“ _

Leia flipped the switch on the holoprojector with disgust, her stomach churning as the next recording began to play.

_ A man, little more than a boy, steps up onto the stage with a haunted look in his eyes. His dark blond hair is so dirty that it appears nearly brown, plastered against his sweat-drenched face. He is achingly familiar yet unrecognizable. The crowd hisses, boos, jeers as he is marched out before them, a sacrificial tooka to appease the vengeful gods and satiate the bloodlust of the masses. He stands, resolute but fragile, as his executioner raises his weapon – _

“Hey, Princess.” Han’s voice caused her flinch, allowing her to miss the sound of the blasterfire, to shut down the holo before she had to see… before she had to  _ watch it again… _ “C’mon. Let’s get going.”

After noticing her reaction, Han’s movements shifted instantly, bringing an entirely different tone to his voice as he rested a gentle hand on top of hers. “Leia…” The way he spoke her name forced her to bite back a choked sob. How could a man who sounded so cocky so much of the time manage to speak with such gentleness and reverence? “How many times have you watched this? You don’t gotta keep tormenting yourself with it. You know it’s not your fault, right?”

She just shook her head, squeezing his hand with hers. “I shouldn’t have let him go, Han. I should have stopped him.”

Han snorted humourlessly. “You and I both know that nothing anyone said would’ve stopped the kid once he made up his mind. He was almost as stubborn as you are.”

Leia didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry at that remark. Instead, she changed the subject. “Something isn’t right about this. The Empire’s story just… doesn’t add up.”

“Well of course something ain’t right. It’s the Empire,” Han scoffed. “They really think that if they pass the Death Star off as a research station then the galaxy’s gonna forget all about Alderaan?”

That was definitely the wrong thing to say. She levelled a venomous glare at Han, allowing her pain to bleed into the words she spat at him. “That  _ isn’t _ what I meant. We’ve known for  _ years _ that they’ve been denying any involvement, and this has  _ nothing _ to do with that.” Seeing Han flinch sent a pang of guilt through her, and with a deep breath, Leia reined in her temper. “I mean… I don’t believe that Luke killed Vader.”

“What?” He had pulled away now, still gripping her hand but stepping back and looking at her like she’d just turned into a bantha in front of his very eyes. “Why wouldn’t he wanna off his old man’s killer?”

Suppressing a shudder, Leia turned a weighted look to Han before shaking her head. “I – I can’t tell you. But I just…  _ feel it. _ Just like I can feel that… It wasn’t Luke. On that stage. He’s – I think he’s still…  _ alive. _ ”

She  _ despised _ the look he gave her, the pity it carried, how he seemed to be  _ humouring _ her. “I… don’t pretend to understand all this, uh,  _ Force _ mumbo-jumbo. I don’t get how the Empire could’ve pulled it off or how the kid could be alive.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he stepped forward and squeezed her hands, cutting her off. “But if you say he is then I trust you. I just think we gotta go about this the right way. I believe you, but the bigwigs sure won’t. Not if you tell them like this. I still think you should tell them Luke was your brother –”

“I  _ can’t _ do that!”

“I  _ know, _ and I’m not gonna push you to do it, but if you wanna do something about these  _ feelings _ you’re having, then…” Han sighed. Shook his head. “I hate that I’ve learned how these politicians work. I blame you, ya know. But… You  _ do  _ know you’re gonna have to do something different than what you’re doing now if we’ve got any hope of getting the kid back.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Leia hesitated a moment before letting out a breath and nodding her head. She hated when he was right. “I know… But you came in here for a reason. I’m assuming High Command has summoned me?”

“You’d assume correct.”

“Naturally…” Leia sighed, feeling herself deflate a little as the air blew out of her lungs. At the end of it all, she still had duties to perform and an obligation to the Alliance to continue fighting to the best of her abilities. In this moment, though, she just wanted to sink down, close her eyes, and allow herself some time to grieve and rest and forget everything she was  _ supposed _ to do. Meeting Han’s gaze, Leia allowed a few seconds of vulnerability shine through her eyes before she inhaled deeply and regained her resolve. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Her strides were brisk and resolute, displaying no indication of the conflicted emotions she’d been carrying just moments before as she breezed into the conference room where High Command had gathered. Mon Mothma stood at the head of the table, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her unease. She hid it the best, though. The days following Endor had seen morale dip significantly, and while nobody had outright left yet, the will to fight was waning in many rebels who just wanted to find some quiet, uninhabited world and live out the rest of their days there. High Command had noticed, and they’d been running themselves ragged trying to keep everyone together when they weren’t even managing that too successfully themselves.

Leia took her place at the table, directly across from Mothma. Han settled in behind her, lurking nearby, but far enough back that no one could say he was in the way. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be part of these meetings, but they tolerated his presence for Leia’s sake.

Mothma dispensed with all formalities beyond a curt nod in Leia’s direction and began the meeting. “The Alliance is on the brink of collapse,” she said, simply, confirming what they all already knew. “The destruction of the second Death Star left us with a hollow victory and many soldiers and pilots left feeling worn out. Our people have made sacrifices that are starting to feel for naught, and the – the  _ loss _ of Skywalker has dealt a significant blow.” Leia did not miss the way Mothma’s eyes flickered to her or her voice hitched as she mentioned Luke, but her face remained a mask as the Alliance Leader carried on. “Not to mention the Emperor’s announcement of Darth Vader’s successor. We’re in unknown territory here, and many of our people are losing faith in our ability to navigate it. While there is little to be done about many of our problems, at the moment, we have managed to secure intel about that last point of concern.”

Ah. Right. That mysterious Grand Admiral that had been named the new Commander of the Imperial Fleet. An image of the man was projected before them, rotating from the holoprojector in the centre of the table and staring out at each of them. He was an enigma in his own right, particularly as a non-human somehow managing to obtain such a high rank. He was no alien Leia had ever seen, but he appeared  _ just _ human enough that it was likely a ploy to make the Empire seem more sympathetic to non-humans without having to push too far into the unfamiliar. Still, there was something about those eyes that, even in this still holoimage, seemed to be probing her, somehow seeing every one of her thoughts.

Suppressing a shudder, she turned her attention away from the projected image and towards Madine, who began the briefing. “This is Grand Admiral Thrawn, which is his only known name. A member of a species from the Unknown Regions, believed to be called the  _ Chiss, _ he rose to the rank of Grand Admiral – the only non-human in the Empire to do so – due to his tactical prowess. He’s said to be able to predict his enemies’ movements purely by examining their actions – and, if the rumours are to be believed, their background and  _ culture _ – in order to learn how they fight. Despite his skill, much of his time in service to the Empire has been spent on the Outer Rim, right along the border with the Unknown Regions. The official story is that his posting there was due to his knowledge of the region, but it is much more likely that he was tucked there to appease some of the more xenophobic among the Imperial elite.”

Behind her, Han made a quiet noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff, and Leia couldn’t help but share the sentiment. She didn’t express it, though. Instead, she considered the implications as she felt her brows draw together. “If he was that far out, how did he return to Coruscant so soon after Vader’s death?”

“That’s the thing,” Madine said. “Our sources were able to trace a transmission from the Emperor himself, sent days before the Battle of Endor, recalling Thrawn to Coruscant.”

“A contingency plan?” Ackbar cut in.

“It’s likely,” Mothma agreed, retaking her lead over the meeting. “Whether Palpatine knew what the outcome of the battle would be or whether he was simply preparing for every eventuality is uncertain, but either possibility makes it clear that, whether he or Vader survived Endor or not, he was planning to elevate Thrawn in some capacity.”

The room was silent for a few moments while they all let the implication of  _ that _ sink in.

“This is not a threat to be taken lightly,” Madine continued, knowing full well that none of them  _ would. _ “I will prepare a file to be released to our troops with all the basic information they’ll need, for now, but until we know more… The best we can do is to avoid contact and allow him to learn as little about us as possible.”

A grim expression settled over Mon Mothma’s face as she nodded in thanks towards Madine and faced the rest of the gathered ranks. “Times are dark, and this may seem like a step backwards for our efforts, but we must not give up hope. Despite the Emperor’s survival and escape, we have still dealt a blow to the Empire by destroying their station, and we have made it clear that we will not stand for this level of tyranny in our galaxy. As difficult as it can be, we must carry on. With this new intel, we will not be doing it blindly, at least, and whatever new threats we face, we  _ will _ meet them head on.”

General  agreement rippled through the room, the exact words indistinct, but it seemed that High Command seemed to concur with Mothma’s assessment of the situation. Whether or not it was genuine belief or simply hope for the sake of staving off despair was yet to be seen. Leia herself simply nodded, keeping her expression neutral. Behind her, she could almost sense Han holding back his eye roll.

“Now, if there’s nothing further, you’re dismissed.”

Was she imagining the relief that overtook the other council members? Shaking her head, Leia turned to leave, catching Han’s eye as he offered her a smile that resided firmly between cocky and comforting. She found herself infinitely grateful for that look, in spite of herself, and she found herself inexplicably eager to take some time with him, away from everyone else –

“Leia?” Mothma’s voice elicited a grimace from her, which was met by Han’s brows climbing towards his hairline. “May I speak to you a moment? You too, Captain Solo, if you don’t mind.”

The political prowess Mon Mothma possessed had been the subject of Leia’s envy for so much of her career; now, it was serving as the subject of her frustration. She knew just the way to phrase things and  _ precisely _ which tone of voice made saying no an impossibility, which Leia wanted so desperately to do right now.

“Yes, Chancellor? What is it?”

Han was scowling as Leia turned to face Mothma, who’d remained unmoved while the rest of the room filed out. In spite of his suspicion, Han had moved forward and rested a single hand on Leia’s arm. There was a time, months ago, that she would have shrugged that touch off in an instant, but now, somehow, the warmth of his fingers was welcome and comforting.

Regret gleamed in the older woman’s eyes, making the exhaustion that resided below them all the more obvious. “I am…  _ loath _ to bring this up, but you must understand the necessity.” A pit of ice formed in Leia’s stomach. “I am deeply sorry about Skywalker’s execution, and I truly do sympathize with the both of you. I am aware of what he meant to you.”

She wasn’t, though. Leia couldn’t help but think bitterly that  _ no one _ knew what he meant to her. Han, who was gently squeezing her arm, came close to understanding, but he didn’t know how it  _ felt _ to her. Brother,  _ brother, _ he was  _ her brother _ – her  _ twin…  _

But Mon carried on, oblivious to Leia’s distress. “He was, however, in the custody of the Emperor himself prior to that.” No… she couldn’t be suggesting – “If there is even the slightest possibility that Skywalker revealed any information, if he had any information beyond what we know he had access to or anything he might have shared with either of you that might be of use to the Empire, it is vital that we know what it could possibly have been.”

“He wouldn’t.”

The confidence in Han’s voice was unwavering, the fire in his eyes inextinguishable. Han’s faith in Luke had always been unshakeable, perhaps because the entire reason he’d returned to the Rebellion was because of those wide, pleading eyes – not to mention that righteous indignation he exuded, and how it seemed to be nothing short of  _ infectious. _

Leia longed to agree with him, was about ready to open her mouth to concur when Mothma cut her off. “This is not a question of Skywalker’s character. I do not believe that he would willingly sell us out. But interrogation by the Empire –”

“I am fully aware of what the Empire is capable of when it comes to  _ interrogation, _ ” Leia snapped. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Her nails bit into her palms as she squeezed her hands into fists, and a mounting sense of  _ rage _ bubbled up within her. She knew she needed to control herself. She’d have to get out of here.

Mothma nodded solemnly. “I know you are,” she said gently. “We all do, so surely – ”

“I am not willing to discuss this at the moment!” Her words were razor sharp, slicing at her superior in a way she’d  _ never _ consider under different circumstances. “So, if there is nothing further?” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the conference room, Han trailing just behind.

She wasn’t sure where she was going, what she planned on doing, she just needed to get  _ away, _ needed to –

“ _ Leia. _ ”

How many times would Han use her given name rather than some condescending nickname or title? It was beginning to make her almost uncomfortable.

His hands had come to rest on her shoulders, a warm weight that kept her grounded, and he gently led her through a doorway that opened to a secluded courtyard. Sitting her down, Han locked his eyes with hers and stared for a moment, searching for…  _ something. _ “That was… a lot, back there, I know. It wasn’t fair for Mothma to spring that on you. But you’re gonna have to tell her eventually.”

He was right. She  _ hated _ when he was right.

The anger that had flared within her had begun to dissipate, leaving her with a tired sense of deflation and a pang that moved through her chest. “I know… I  _ know _ I can’t hide this from them much longer but… you don’t understand, Han. You don’t understand what admitting the truth to them will mean. Because I’ll have to admit something else, too, and I’m just not sure if I can handle what that might do.”

It wasn’t pity on Han’s face this time. There was sympathy in those eyes, yes, but she couldn’t quite name the expression he wore. Understanding? She wasn’t sure. Whatever it was, it was evident in his voice, too. “We all got things we ain’t proud of. I know that, better than anyone. But take it from me, running from it won’t do you any good. Whatever’s eating at you? It won’t change what I think of you. So c’mon, Princess. You can say it to me. I promise.”

But he was wrong. It  _ would _ change what he thought of her – what he thought about  _ Luke. _ She couldn’t bear to see the disgust in his eyes, the scorn as he realized just what she and her brother were.

“I –” His eyes were expectant, filled with a limitless faith that she knew was misplaced, and as much as she wanted to admit the horrible truth and have someone to share the burden with, the words caught in her throat and she nearly felt that she would choke on them. “I can’t. Not tonight, Han. It’s been a long day and I… Need to rest. Walk me back to my room?”

She offered him a half-hearted smile, one she knew didn’t reach her eyes. He wasn’t buying it. That much was clear from the skepticism that coloured his features as he stared at her. He seemed to be debating the merits of arguing the point before he finally sighed and conceded. “Alright.”

The trip back to her room was made in silence, neither of them wanting to press further, but her thoughts were not quiet as they worked to weave a tangle of dread into her innards.

_ You can’t hide from the truth forever, Princess, _ they whispered.  _ You can’t hide from who you really are. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title comes from _Begin Again_ by Brooks Dixon!  
> Also! Genuine thank you to [Azalea Scroggs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalea_Scroggs/pseuds/Azalea_Scroggs) and [ Spell Cleaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellCleaver/pseuds/SpellCleaver) for giving this story a read through before posing. Check out their stuff !! And just give other Star Wars writers some love, this fandom has a ton of talented folk who deserve your love and attention <3 !!


	3. Won't Let You Down

The journey to Vjun had been slow and arduous and riddled with pain, but an alien sense of relief flooded through Vader as his shuttle finally descended towards Bast Castle. It was unfortunate to leave behind his fortress on Mustafar, which was better equipped and well staffed, but it had been gifted to him by his former master. He was certain the Emperor did not truly believe him dead and would have preparations in place should he discover the survival of his wayward apprentice. It would be impossible to avoid Sidious forever, but Vader would do everything within his power to delay that inevitability. Returning to anywhere his master could possibly expect was out of the question.

Vader had originally taken up residence on this acid-soaked world three years following the construction of his fortress on Mustafar. While several of his staff were purely loyal to him, he’d discovered a number of Sidious’ spies among the ranks, and after several attempts to dispose of them discreetly, more and more would simply spring up in their place. Escaping the gaze of his master within the official Imperial realm was impossible, he’d come to learn, so he’d decided to simply operate outside of it instead.

This fortress was unknown to all but a few of his most trusted officers. Over the years, he had accumulated a small staff of his own men to maintain it. It largely housed retired clone troopers, several from the original 501st, in addition to a number of other troopers and officers who had proven their loyalty beyond doubt. These were men with no families and nowhere to turn when their active duty had come to an end but had earned the right to settle down peacefully. So long as they maintained absolute secrecy, they were free to come and go as they pleased, but many of them – particularly the clones – chose to take up permanent residence in the castle, leaving only when necessary to gather supplies.

While Vader was certain that the Emperor suspected he had his own private retreats, he was confident that his master had never discovered the precise location. He had been very careful to spend time here only when _strictly_ necessary so as not to raise suspicion, particularly for the sake of the men this fortress housed. A selfish part of him was incredibly grateful for their presence here; having allies he knew would remain faithful to him would make it far easier to see his plans come to fruition.

As the shuttle landed in the hangar bay, an immediate ripple of emotion resonated throughout the palace and rang out through the Force. Vader could sense a blend of apprehension, confusion and disbelief in his men coupled with, oddly enough, relief and a minute twinge of… _hope._

Disembarking the shuttle, he limped into the empty hangar bay and set off towards the private medcentre in his quarters. The shuttle itself had few supplies beyond the emergency med and tool kits standard in all Imperial vessels, which had been enough for him to cling to life but far from sufficient to counteract the effects of Sidious’ assault. He needed to heal and repair the damage to his suit if he was to have any hope of finding his children.

“Lord Vader?” The familiar voice of a clone trooper echoed through the corridor he was stalking down, uncertain yet unwavering. Vader spared the trooper a glance, determined the voice belonged to Commander Appo, and continued striding towards his quarters. Appo jogged to catch up, falling into step two paces behind. “We didn’t expect you to return, sir. The holonet…” The trooper paused, scowling. “You’re injured. Should I fetch Kix, General?”

The clones were the only ones to refer to him as their general, and though it often brought about unwanted memories of days long passed, he allowed them to continue to do so out of gratitude for their continued loyalty.

“Yes,” Vader ground out, internally wincing at the crackling of his damaged vocoder. He’d had no reason to speak for several days and thus had no idea the extent of the damage to his non-vital systems. “Have my personal Onebee unit re-activated and prepare a bacta tank as well.”

“At once, sir.” Appo’s confusion had not dissipated, but he placed his duty before his curiosity, carrying out his orders rather than asking questions.

“When the most crucial systems are restored, we can discuss the state of the galaxy.” It was simply a courtesy that he did not _need_ to extend – and often didn’t. His men had learned to trust that vital information would always be provided when needed. However, Vader felt he at least owed them the promise of answers, if only so the apprehension and confusion he’d felt would not interfere with their duties. “I’m certain there are many questions we’d _all_ like the answers to.”

Appo answered the commands with a sharp nod and headed off to summon their medic. His men were swift and efficient, despite the accelerated aging of the clones, and the appropriate personnel filed into the medcentre mere moments after Vader himself.

“Most of the damage to your person should be healed by the bacta soak, sir,” Kix explained after the initial assessment. “Any remaining injuries can be reassessed to determine if surgery is necessary or they’ll simply take time. As for the suit, I can get started on fixing up the vital life support systems while you’re in the tank, and we can discuss further repairs when you’ve been stabilized.”

“Is the tank ready?”

“Yes, sir.” Kix hesitated a moment, brow knitting as he regarded Vader. Speaking very slowly and deliberately, he continued. “It’s a wonder you’ve survived as long as you have in this condition.”

Bitter amusement tugged at him as he grimaced a wry smirk beneath his mask. “It takes far more than this to eliminate me. Particularly when there are duties I am still required to uphold.”

“Understood, sir,” the clone said, nodding sagely. “Let’s get you into that tank.”

The sickly sweet scent of the bacta filled his nostrils as he was lowered into the thick substance, the familiar sensation of its healing properties spreading across his tender, scarred flesh. He would never admit it, but Vader was indeed grateful for the opportunity to soothe the ache in his entire being. Since the Death Star, he’d sustained himself largely with the Force, his meager supplies, and pure, determined stubbornness. It was a relief to be able to let that go and reach for the Force for more important matters – namely, his children.

Having been isolated from the rest of the galaxy aboard his shuttle, Vader had no way of discovering what had truly happened to Luke following his confrontation with the Emperor. He had his suspicions, knowing Sidious, but he was _certain_ his son was alive. Even though he could not reach the boy’s presence, he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he would be able to _tell_ if the child had died.

The Force would feel… different – incorrect – without his son’s radiant presence.

And then there was the matter of his daughter… There had been little opportunity to ponder her identity during his journey, focused as he was on his survival. During their duel, he’d been unable to glean more than her existence and the fact that he cared for her deeply from Luke’s mind. Of course he would, they were twins after all, _powerful, Force sensitive_ twins who would undoubtedly share a deep, personal bond. (Vader could not help nor admit to the pang of jealousy that twisted in his chest, the traitorous desire to share a similar bond with his son that he feared would never be fulfilled…) But those feelings spoke to something deeper and stronger than a natural familial bond, suggesting an affection that had grown over time, through familiarity.

Vader wracked his brain, sifting through all he’d learned about the boy since hearing the name _Skywalker_. Who were his son’s closest associates? The smuggler and the Wookiee, certainly, though they could not be his daughter for obvious reasons. The pilots under his command, and it entirely likely that a female pilot he’d flown with could actually be a fellow Skywalker, but all intel spoke of no such person in Rogue Squadron. Which left…

No.

The Force could not _possibly_ be so cruel.

But, no, he knew all too well how cruel the Force could truly be, and it was all too clear when it sang out in confirmation of his suspicions.

Cursing his wretched luck, Vader withdrew from his meagre meditations and allowed himself to succumb to unconsciousness. It would accelerate his healing if he simply got some rest and permitted the bacta to do its work. And, more importantly, it would allow him to wait until he was better equipped to face the reality that his daughter was, in fact, Princess Leia Organa.

* * *

A strange sort of energy had settled over the Imperial Palace, marked by a subtle shift in the atmosphere that was nearly imperceptible, if you didn’t know where to look – and most beings in the Palace _didn’t._ Mara Jade was _not_ most beings; she was the Emperor’s Hand. Her position was unique within the Imperial ranks, offering her a more nuanced image of the Palace, of her master, and the state of the Empire itself. The slightest alteration to what most would pass off as mundane to most was clear to her as the most fundamental truths of the universe.

There was indeed a more obvious change, caused by Lord Vader’s death, but Mara knew better. The truth was far more subtle, and it had begun with the Battle of Endor, following the destruction of the second Death Star. This battle was not nearly as publicized as the first, the majority of their people having been evacuated and knowledge of its construction largely remaining classified. Mara knew. She was privy to all but her master’s most guarded secrets. But the destruction of the battle station didn’t seem to be the cause of this shift, either. Something else was at play here, and her master would reveal its nature to her in good time.

For now, she moved silent and undetected through the Palace, slipping past countless sycophantic courtiers hoping to gain favour and status in the wake of any shift in power within the Empire. It made her sick to know just how many would claim devotion to the Empire and its Master while only taking action that would benefit themselves. Ambition in the face of their betters was the downfall of many a politician in Mara’s experience, and her main solace came in that these people largely did not last when it came time to test their _true_ loyalties.

Mara’s footsteps slowed as she approached her destination. The doors to her master’s chambers stood tall and unwelcoming, flanked by two silent members of the Red Guard, who didn’t give her so much as a twitch in acknowledgement as the heavy slabs of metal slid aside to reveal the austere room that lay just beyond. Breezing past the threshold, Mara swiftly took her place at the foot of the stairs leading to the Emperor’s throne, kneeling and bowing her head as he conducted whatever business he’d been engaged in before her arrival.

It was not uncommon for him to summon her while meeting with some other underling. She’d learned early on that there was either vital information being shared that she would do well to be privy to, or her response time was being tested, and failure would be punished. In either case, she simply _waited_ to be acknowledged, soaking in whatever words were exchanged between her master and his lesser subjects.

On this occasion, it was none other than Thrawn himself who demanded the Emperor’s attention. The Chiss stood impassively before their master’s throne, listening intently to the instructions he was given while his uncannily bright eyes barely even twitched at her arrival.

“I do commend your strategy,” their master drawled, gaze never leaving the Grand Admiral. “Given the knowledge you currently have, it is the most logical choice. However, as satisfying as it would be to strike at the Rebels while they are wounded, there are much more pressing matters near the Core that require your presence. Should the insignificant resistance they present grow beyond a minor nuisance, your expertise will be employed. However, there are plans in motion to keep the insurgents at bay, and I would much prefer to only call on your talents should they be _absolutely necessary._ ”

Thrawn was silent for a moment as he seemed to consider the Emperor’s words. Mara, too, frowned in response. Whatever plans he had in motion remained a mystery to her, but she would simply trust that they would become clear to her when they were meant to. If Thrawn was worthy of his position, he would do the same.

“Understood, Your Majesty.”

The Grand Admiral’s voice was soft and deferent, yet it somehow managed to engulf the entire chamber. His accent was very deliberately Core, betraying Basic as a language that was not native to his tongue, but he carefully kept it smooth enough to fool the casual ear. His tone held no emotion, and while he was clearly a man whose thoughts were always churning, his voice gave no clue as to what those thoughts might be. Even in the Force, his presence felt… _distant._ Not absent, he clearly registered to her senses as a life form, but his thoughts were well guarded and difficult to reach. Mara decided to be cautiously impressed. She could certainly understand, even after only a few short moments in his presence, why Thrawn had won her master’s approval, even as a non-human. Whether or not his loyalties were true would remain to be seen but, at the very least, his position was certainly earned.

“Now, if you have nothing further,” the Emperor prompted, “you are dismissed, Grand Admiral.”

Thrawn simply bowed graciously, uttering a quiet but clear “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you.” When he rose, he met the Emperor’s gaze. “I will await your orders.”

When he turned to leave, Mara – still in her kneeling position – felt his eyes flicker to her, but the glance was fleeting and he was soon beyond the threshold, off to conduct whatever business he had to attend to. Her admiration for Thrawn increased marginally; he showed the wisdom not to linger. If he were to discover or deduce anything about her before the next time they met, then she would be _really_ impressed.

Several moments passed by in silence as she felt her master probe at her mind through their bond. The sensation was rarely a pleasant one, but Mara opened herself up to it, allowing him to find whatever it was that he sought. Fortunately, he seemed to find it rather quickly, a touch of satisfaction bleeding through to her before he withdrew. “Rise, my child.”

Her movements were fluid as she stood from her position, complying swiftly without appearing overly eager or insolent. Her head was the last to raise, eyes cast down before finally locking with the sickly yellow that glowed beneath her master’s hood.

“Your assessment of the Admiral?”

The Emperor knew as well as she did that her brief encounter with Thrawn would not provide her with the entire picture. They did not interact, and she had seen very little of his true nature. However, reality did not offer the luxury of a full, detailed assessment of every being one met, and it would take a much quicker perception to determine who meant _harm_.

“He displayed his tact and wisdom in obeying your orders while demonstrating his tactical prowess by seeking a logical justification for them.”

“Indeed.” Her master nodded slowly before tilting his head to the side. “But?”

“But I believe that measures should be taken to ensure his loyalty. Should he turn against us, he would be a powerful enemy.”

“You believe him capable of betrayal?”

“I believe him capable of _deception._ That must be monitored and mitigated if we wish to keep him on our side.”

Her master was silent for several long seconds, drinking in her words and considering their implications, and Mara couldn’t help – didn’t even notice she was – holding her breath. “Yes… Yes, indeed. Thank you for your insight.”

Mara bowed her head in deference. “It is my pleasure, Master.” After a moment, she raised her gaze to meet his and raised a brow. “That is not the reason you summoned me here.” It was an observation, not a question, but stated in such a way that she would refrain from sounding quite so _bold_ as she would otherwise.

A tight smile spread across the Emperor’s thin lips, and he barked out a reedy chuckle. “No, my dear, it certainly was _not._ I do, however, value your opinion rather highly. You are My Hand, after all. Your perspective has proven invaluable in the past.”

It took conscious effort to keep the pride in her chest from swelling beyond her control, but Mara did allow a shade of gratitude to rise in her and bleed into the Force. “Thank you, Master.”

“I did summon you here to assign you a mission.”

Mara’s back straightened and her posture stiffened as the Emperor abruptly switched from his role as her mentor to his role as her _master._ It had been jarring to her, at first, how quickly he could jump from one to the other but, as with everything else, she had learned quickly to adjust. As the Ruler of All Known Space, the Emperor had no need to announce every shift in his mood. As his Hand, it was Mara’s job to simply detect it and respond accordingly.

“Regrettably,” he continued, “it will see you leave Imperial Centre for quite some time. I am loath to have you away from my side for so long, but I believe your success with this mission will be instrumental in destroying the Rebellion and maintaining our vision for the galaxy.”

A long-term mission? It was not unheard of for Mara to spend weeks at a time away from the capital, but he was speaking as though this might go on longer than anything she’d done before. “I will do what I must, Master. I will not fail you.”

“Yes, child, of that I am certain. This is not a task I would dare to trust to anyone else.” His hard gaze softened for a moment before immediately growing rigid once again. “I wish for you to infiltrate the Rebellion and ingratiate yourself to the Princess Leia Organa. I have foreseen that, if approached delicately and handled properly, she may prove to be of great use to us.”

Mara furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. She was familiar with Organa’s file, knew far too well what a nuisance the Princess had been in the Senate, and just how traitorous she’d become following its dissolution. She was a staunch supporter of the Republic and incredibly vocal against the Empire. How could she possibly serve any purpose to them? “Forgive me, Master, but would it not be more prudent to simply eliminate her? The Rebels rally around her, it would be a crushing blow to their morale to lose her.”

Rather than the angry snarl she’d expected at her question, a toothy grin spread across her master’s face, his golden eyes glimmering with amusement. “Yes, my dear, losing her would certainly crush what little hope they have left. But the Rebels are not so easily eliminated, stubborn fools that they are. They have lost inspirational leaders, lost entire _planets,_ and still carried on. True defeat can only come when they see they have no hope of winning. And what better way to demonstrate that fact than for their very own beloved symbol of hope to fall into the Imperial fold?”

There was wisdom in her master’s words, and he had spoken of his foresight, which had served him well during his rule, but Mara could still scarcely bring herself to believe that Organa would even consider joining them. “You truly believe she will see the error of her ways?”

The Emperor’s gaze sharpened a touch, not quite dipping into the level of rage she knew him capable of, but it held a shade of a frustration that warned her to tread _carefully._ “Do you not believe in your own abilities, My Hand? Certainly, with your _unique_ talents, subtly charming and winning over the Princess should be well within your capabilities. Or were you planning on being so blunt as to immediately announce your true allegiance to her and politely request that she join us?”

“No, Master, of course not –”

“Good,” he snapped, his patience at its limit. “Then I trust you shall find a way to see it done. Seek out the Rebellion, insert yourself among their ranks and win the Princess’ trust. That shouldn’t be too difficult. You are nearly her age, charismatic, and possess a talent for reading people. She should take to you easily. From there, what you need to do will become clear.” His voice grew smooth and affectionate once more as he spoke his parting words. “Now go, my child – you have much work ahead of you. And _do_ keep me informed of your progress, will you?”

“Of course, Master,” Mara said, bowing as she made her way out of the throne room.

This had not been the mission she’d expected to be sent away on, that was for sure. Organa was the last person she’d ever expect her master to believe could be won over. She knew better than to question his wisdom, though, and she refused to believe his faith in her was misplaced. This would be her greatest challenge yet, but she _would_ succeed at it.

She was the Emperor’s Hand; whatever his will, she would see it done, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics for this chapter title:  
> Won't Let You Down by Jimkata. Title definitely works for this chapter, in a sense, since both Vader and Mara don't want to let down the people they're working to please, but I do see the song in general as one that just sorta suits Luke overall.  
> If I find songs that suit the Vader and Mara parts of this individually, I will plop them here, but for now, enjoy the music :D


	4. Keep the Wolf Back From the Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, there's some good ol' Palpatine Manipulation(tm) in this chapter. Nothing Overly Explicit comes up, but the beginnings of him being Nastee starts in this chapter, so just be aware of that, moving forward. A lot of it is psychological, and the physical stuff will not be gory or anything, but please take care of your personal comfort !!

Everything was beginning to fall into place once again.

Decades of planning and careful machinations had nearly been unravelled by his unruly apprentice and a child who was meant to be  _ dead. _ It should not have come as a surprise; Skywalker always was unpredictable, after all, and easily swayed by passion. It had been instrumental in orchestrating his Fall, but careful control of that passion was necessary to keep him at heel. He’d known from the start just how dangerous that boy could be, and true to his predictions, the child had nearly led to his downfall – just not in the way he’d expected. He had been foolish to think Skywalker had been eradicated so fully that not even the return of that name to the galaxy’s consciousness could reawaken a person counted deceased for so long.

Not that he could not  _ comprehend _ the boy’s sway over his apprentice. Amidala had sunk a durasteel grip around the heart of a young slave child so many years ago, so it was only natural that her son should hold some amount of that same power. What he had not foreseen was the sickening  _ brightness _ the boy radiated, the pure, raw power that was blinding in the Force yet impossible to look away from. It was intoxicating, to a degree, but poisonous to the Dark if left unchecked and uncorrupted. He’d meant to destroy it and eliminate the threat to his reign.

But…

If there was one thing Sheev Palpatine craved, it was power; if there was one thing that could sustain that power, it was  _ control. _ To control power was to wield it, and for so long he had wielded the unparalleled might of Skywalker – why give that up now? He had lost control over one, but if he played his cards right, he may very well gain control over  _ two. _

With Vader out of the picture, for now, it would be much easier to contain the boy, and he posed much less of a threat without his father nearby. There was little chance that he would turn willingly, but even if he did not become an apprentice, he could still be of use.

There was a  _ sister, _ a daughter of the Force with untapped strength who could very well be the key to securing his grip on the galaxy once and for all.

It had taken much work on the boy’s mind to extract her identity. He’d fought every step of the way, his shields unyielding for so very long. In the end, though, the pitiful excuse for a Jedi succumbed, as they all did, and revealed the information he sought.

Truly, the Force worked in mysterious ways. One of his staunchest opponents, Leia Organa, could be shaped into one of his greatest assets. He had failed with Amidala, could not maintain a hold over her, but he could, perhaps, succeed with her children. It would be a challenge, to be sure – there was much of their mother in them both – but it would not be impossible, given how much of their  _ father _ was in them both, as well.

He could recall the girl’s passion in the Senate, the sense of righteous outrage at any policy she deemed immoral, a display of her mother’s convictions with her father’s emotions – and, undoubtedly, his strength in  _ the Force. _ With the proper, delicate approach, she could be shaped into a powerful apprentice indeed. Mara would root out the girl’s identity and abilities and know precisely how to win her over, sealing the fate of the girl and the galaxy both.

The boy, on the other hand, continued to baffle him. He possessed much of his father’s hotheaded recklessness and zealous drive to protect his loved ones, his anger was present and ever simmering below the surface, but he was far too quick to regain control and deny the power it offered. Steeped as he was in the world of  _ politicians _ and  _ nobility, _ Palpatine could scarcely imagine the existence of someone so seemingly…  _ genuine _ in their intentions.

He should just dispose of the boy and be done with him. Now that he’d fulfilled his purpose and revealed the identity of his sister, he’d outlived his immediate usefulness. It would be prudent to eliminate the risk, now.

And yet…

He couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Had he grown sentimental in his old age? The boy  _ did _ bear an uncanny resemblance to his father. Perhaps he was simply finding himself unwilling to let his old apprentice go. That may well have played a part of it, but sentimentality had never been at the forefront of his motivations.

No, the boy presented a unique challenge, resistant as he was to his usual techniques. To break this child would be a reward in and of itself, the satisfaction of finding new ways to shatter him, to control him, to make him into a  _ pet project _ the likes of which he hasn’t pursued in many long years.

And, should Palpatine never truly manage to bend the boy to his will, he would serve as fine leverage to keep Organa in line.

Descending into the depths below the Palace, Darth Sidious entered his private sanctum, reconstructed from the excavated remains of the Sith shrine that had once resided here. No other living soul in the galaxy knew of its existence, so it was an ideal retreat when he wished to meditate and reach deep within the Dark Side without being disturbed. It was a labyrinthine network of corridors and chambers, twisting far below the Palace itself. He’d found this location fascinating, ruins atop ruins, this single point in the galaxy where Light and Dark had warred and alternated their claim. His goal was to put an end to that cycle and stamp out the Light, once and for all, shaping the course of the galaxy purely by his design.

Secluded and steeped in the Dark Side as it was, the shrine had proven to be the perfect location to stash the boy. Isolated from the rest of the galaxy, it was a simple matter to implement measures to keep him docile and, eventually, break him into a creature either ripe for moulding or too deteriorated to pose a threat. The room he occupied was kept constantly dim, illumined just enough that he would be able to make out how bare his accommodations were, but shrouded in enough dark for the shadows to dominate and all sense of time to bleed away. Two MagnaGuards flanked the door, poised to neutralize him should he attempt to flee, and a stripped-down protocol droid brought his food and drink. Keeping his senses dulled and restricting his human contact to only Sidious himself had ensured complete control over the boy and his fate.

Light flooded the room as the door slid open. Cowering in the corner, curled in on himself atop his spartan cot and pressing his back against the wall, the boy squinted against what was, to him, harsh and sudden illumination. The simple grey prison fatigues he wore hung loose and tattered against his bony frame, and his cheekbones stood prominent against his gaunt face. His eyes were dull and unfocused, glazed in a way that stood in stark contrast to the sharp and willful defiance they’d previously held.

Yet, despite his sorry state, the wretch retained the slightest spark, the smouldering embers of stubborn determination that refused to be extinguished, bolstering his strength and instilling some resolve. Good. He couldn’t have his new pet project falling apart on him before they got to the real fun, now, could he?

“Oh, my dear boy,” Palpatine crooned as he stepped into the room, relishing in the way the boy flinched back at his voice. “You are frightened. Be still, child; I wish you no harm.” Suspicion flooded the boy’s eyes as they narrowed. “Yes, I know, I have hurt you before, and I may be forced to harm you again, but I assure you, my wish is, truly, to  _ guide _ you. When you stray from your intended path, corrective measures must be taken.”

Indignant anger mingled with the suspicion in his eyes, and that same smouldering ember flared to restore some level of their usual lustre. He bore a striking resemblance to a wild tooka backed into the corner, frightened and trembling but prepared to strike out, if pressed. His claws were dulled, however, and he could do little harm in his condition. It would not be long before Sidious would declaw him completely and tame him into an obedient little housecat, or else put him down.

He stepped forward slowly, so as not to  _ spook _ the boy, and entered the room proper. Gradually, carefully, deliberately, he approached the bed, extending an open hand in offering when he reached its edge. “You  _ are _ clever,” he said, tenderly resting his outstretched hand on the boy’s shoulder when he did not grasp for it himself. The muscles beneath his fingers were tense, coiled and prepared both to pull back and lunge forward. He kept his grip gentle, reaching for a soothing reassurance he’d employed on a similar boy, decades ago. “I’m certain you understand the necessity of my actions. The use of such  _ ghastly _ methods pains me as much as it does you, but I have taken you in to  _ teach _ you, to allow you to discover your  _ true _ potential. The pain is a  _ lesson, _ and an important one, but one that will gain you little so long as you resist. All you need to do to make it stop is accept my offer.”

Horror, rage and obstinance flashed across the boy’s face, and he worked his mouth, searching for his voice – to protest, no doubt – but he came up short. It wasn’t that he  _ could not _ speak, just that he simply… did not. Perhaps he could not quite reach the words quickly enough in his addled state to formulate a response in time. Perhaps he’d sworn himself to a relative silence in a form of foolish protest. Perhaps he was worn and withering and chose not to speak to conserve his energy. Sidious did not particularly care; the silence suited him just fine.

Before that silence could be broken, Palpatine cut back in, sympathy verging on pity woven through his words. “But of course, I do not expect you to have an answer immediately. After all, you have spent so much of your life being deceived, so many years entrenched in the lies of the Jedi. Your foolish ideals run deep, and I cannot ask you to dispose of them without proper consideration.” Reaching into his robe, he produced a small canteen of water and offered it to the boy, who eyed it suspiciously. “It is only water, young Luke.” The boy was shocked at the use of his given name, but it had the desired effect – the suspicion diminished, somewhat, and he was looking at the canteen covetously. Seeds of doubt had been planted. “You must be parched. Take it, rejuvenate yourself and replenish your strength while you think on what I’ve said. I will return at the earliest opportunity to check on you again, my boy. Until then, rest well.”

Leaving the sealed canteen on the bed for the boy to drink at his convenience, Palpatine swept out of the room and grinned to himself. Yes, the next pieces of his plan were falling into place, and soon he would be able to really begin his work on the boy.

* * *

A sense of calm had settled over _ Home One _ as it shifted into its night cycle. The only members of the Alliance left on duty made up the skeleton crew that kept the ship running, and most of the Rebels on board were getting some much-needed sleep.

_ Most, _ but not all.

Sleep would not come to Leia, try as she might, and the past several nights had brought with them unsettling dreams. She couldn’t quite remember them when she awoke, but they always left her with a feeling of foreboding that plagued her for the rest of the day. She didn’t know how to make them stop, and she was not about to go to the medbay when all they would tell her was that they were just a natural reaction to grief or, worse, that she was crazy.

(Her fears about the latter were already strong enough.)

So, rather than attempt to seek the rest she so desperately needed, Leia sat at her desk, poring over a datapad detailing all the information they had on this new Grand Admiral for the hundredth time. She wasn’t certain what she was looking for  _ exactly, _ but she had to find  _ some _ useful information in this dossier – the Alliance was counting on her. But, once again, epiphany eluded her, and she groaned as she rubbed at her eyes.

“Princess?”

Leia did not  _ jump _ when Lando’s smooth voice drifted from her doorway, but she did sit bolt upright and whirled around in her seat to face him. He had yet to cross the threshold, respectfully waiting for an invitation. In his hand he held two steaming mugs, and Leia couldn’t help her curiosity at what they might contain. “Come on in, Lando,” she sighed, beckoning towards the spare chair beside her desk. “I wasn’t expecting you to be up this late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He was most definitely not convinced. Crossing the office and settling into the offered seat, he offered her a raised brow and a twist of the lips somewhere between a grimace and a smirk. “I could ask you the same thing.” His expression softened as he set down one of the mugs and nodded towards it. “I brought you something – hot chocolate. Always calms my nerves when I need a clear head and alcohol is out of the question.”

Picking up the mug, she examined the dark liquid within. It smelled sweet and rich, and it whispered hints of a place she’d never been but instantly considered  _ home. _

“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip. It tasted much like it smelled but somehow even more rich. Leia found it did indeed soothe her nerves a touch, but it was unlikely to be the sort of thing she made a habit of consuming. Her brother, on the other hand… “Luke would love this stuff.”

A funny expression crossed Lando’s face, not quite pity but akin to it, his own grief creeping into his dark eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure he would have.” His tone somehow managed to match his expression.

_ Would have. _ Lando believed, like the rest of the galaxy, that Luke was  _ dead. _ And… maybe he was _. _ Maybe she was deluding herself into thinking he was still alive.

Blinking back the stinging in her eyes, Leia changed the subject. “You didn’t just come here to bring me a hot beverage, did you? Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I can hardly imagine it warrants a visit to my office at this hour.”

“What, I can’t just stop by?” His tone was good-natured, but his expression remained something like a  _ grimace, _ and he sighed in acquiescence. “No, you’re right. Chewie sent me.”

She raised a brow at that. “Chewie?” The Wookiee certainly did dote on the honorary crew of the  _ Falcon, _ but something about this seemed off.

Lando let out a dry chuckle that lacked his usual bright humour. “Yeah, the big fuzzball really cares about you _. _ ” He paused for a moment, giving Leia a knowing look, and she already suspected what he was about to say. “Han does, too. And I know you know that. They’re both  _ worried _ about you.”

“So he sent Chewie to send you to check on me,” Leia replied flatly.

“Yeah, well… Nobody ever claimed Han ever had any measure of tact when it comes to, uh…” Possibly reading Leia’s expression, Lando took a moment to search for the right words. “Anything that needs a more delicate approach than blasting everything in sight or what he considers smooth-talk and swindling. But he  _ does _ care, whether he’s got the subtlety to express it properly or not.”

Deflating slightly, Leia ran her fingers through the strands of hair that had come loose from her braid and sighed. “You’re  _ right, _ of course. I know you are, it’s just –” For all the control she’d managed to maintain since Endor, it was now, in front of Lando and long after she should have fallen asleep, that her words caught in her throat and instead morphed into a choked noise, nearly akin to a sob.

Part of her wanted to feel ashamed at this, how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be, but the warm, heavy hand that settled on her shoulder caused her to deflate even further and melt into his touch. It felt different than the rough, sometimes fumbling but always affectionate way Han held her, nowhere near the tender warmth of Luke’s touch, but it was grounding and reassuring nevertheless. Tears stung hot in her eyes as she squeezed them shut, burning tracks in her cheeks as they spilled forth.

“You lost your brother,” Lando said, his voice gentle and sympathetic but completely without condescension. “You gained him then lost him immediately after, and you’re  _ mourning _ him. I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep it together this long, Leia, but you are allowed to feel these emotions. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

Swallowing thickly, Leia avoided his gaze. Her first instinct was to protest, to insist that she wasn’t trying to push anybody away or do anything on her own, but she knew as well as he did that she would be  _ lying. _ Rather than deny it, she chose instead to simply  _ ignore _ the notion and change the subject entirely. “I’ve been having… dreams.” She swallowed again, as if it would dislodge the lump that had made its home in her throat. “About – about  _ Luke. _ I don’t really… it’s not clear what’s happening, exactly, but he’s…  _ in pain. _ It’s dark, mostly, hard to see, but every now and then, there’s this… this brief, bright, violet flash of light. And I’m not sure what it means – it’s probably just  _ grief, _ I know, but – I have the strangest feeling that it’s something…  _ more. _ And I know that sounds crazy and it probably  _ is, _ but – ”

“Hey, hey,” Lando cut in, shifting to stand directly in front of her and placing his other hand on her other shoulder. “Leia, in the year or so that I’ve known you, I’ve come to understand a few things about you. I’ve seen your courage, your dedication and your instincts. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I’d trust one of your gut instincts over advice from anyone else. If you think it’s something more, then I believe you. Han and Chewie will, too. I’m not saying you have to tell them, but I do think you should. You have people that care about you and wanna help you carry the galaxy-sized burden you’ve taken on.”

Leia closed her eyes and let out a deep, shuddering sigh. He was right, again, and she knew it. And, as much as she didn’t want to… “I’ll… talk to them tomorrow.” She owed them that much.

“After you get some  _ rest. _ ” Lando guided her to her feet, slow and gentle, and she allowed her body to comply as she was ushered towards her bed. “Sleep well, Princess,” he said as he shut off her light. “None of this is easy right now, but we’ll see this through to the other side. I know you’ll find a way to get us there. Just don’t be afraid to let us help once in a while.”

Something within her had settled, and the churning unease that had been plaguing her endlessly for the past several days seemed to have calmed, at least for now. Leia drifted into sleep far easier than she had since Endor. As the night passed, her dreams took a considerable shift in direction. She still saw  _ Luke, _ still felt his despair, but she could see him more clearly now. His eyes were sunken, his hair and clothes disheveled, and he looked as though he hadn’t eaten or seen daylight in weeks. But he was smiling at her, that same, brilliant, radiant smile she’d come to love, and she felt her heart soar and break at the same time. He did not stay long, did not say much, but he was there, and she knew now, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that he was alive, and he needed her help.

(She would not consciously remember his words as he faded, but the sentiment would stick with her nonetheless.  _ “Leia… You’re my only hope.” _ )

Resolve strengthened, Leia slept peacefully and dreamlessly after Luke disappeared. She did not  _ like _ anything about the situation she was in, but it was a relief to know her brother was out there, somewhere. When she awoke the next morning, she knew precisely what she had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from "The Wolf," by Mumford and Sons. Parts of it suit this chapter, specifically, others just kinda suit Luke/Star Wars as a whole.


End file.
